Captain Carter's powerful shoulders rocked back and forth as he strode through the narrow hallway, his hair staying as perfectly still as the soft, periwinkle carpet beneath his well-worn boots. A row of small lights carved into the ceiling above his head led the way down the passage, and as his eyes wandered, half-focused, towards them, he felt reminded of the nostalgic video arcades that had dotted his hometown.
"Waka waka," he chuckled, a lopsided smirk twisting its way onto his thin mouth. He stopped before a wooden door at the end of the hallway, spying hazy silhouettes through the frosted glass window set halfway up. Taking a deep breath, Carter dropped the smirk and set his jaw before turning the handle and stepping inside.
A wave of rapturous applause almost sent him staggering backwards as he entered the large room. Work cubicles were neatly arranged over the floor, thin corridors separating the rows upon rows, but the men and women who were normally seated inside the squashed little spaces had all risen to their feet, beaming at his arrival and celebrating his return. It was hard for Carter to keep himself from smirking like a high-school jock and drinking in the appreciation.
Trying to keep aloft of his colleagues, Carter half-heartedly raised a hand in thanks and turned his head from side to side, flashing smiles and muttering the occasional humble word as he walked. All too soon, he came to an unremarkable door at the far end of the room. The door look like any other, adorned with only a strip of black, upon which a name was imprinted in block lettering; what made the door truly special was the name itself.
"O.S. Britton," Carter murmured. His strong hand closed on the doorknob and pushed it open, allowing himself into the commander's office without the need to knock. Noting the coat-rack just inside the door, he casually tossed up his own alongside his superior's, and kicked the door shut behind him with a tap of his heel.
The man sitting in the room's centre barely raised his head, instead scratching absent-mindedly at the prominent moustache that jutted proudly above his lip. A hodgepodge of important-looking papers lay upon his desk, but his dull grey eyes were unfocused towards them, mind deep in thought. Carter, familiar with Britton's habits, settled into a chair opposite the man, and waited.
A silent minute passed before Britton pulled out of his reverie, folding his hands together over the spread of documents.
"Russell," he began, voice soft and low like wind through a desert, "I'm a man full of worry today."
Carter snorted. "And tomorrow, you'll be full of indigestion," he remarked, his sharp tongue getting the better of him.
"Perhaps," sighed Britton, slumping a little in his chair. "All this criminal hocus-pocus is enough to give anyone a stomach-ache… even a tempered old nut like myself! Do you remember, last year, when we finally took down Bomerian after losing all that manpower?"
"Of course," replied Carter. It was hard to forget that particular incident.
Britton nodded. "We finally nailed the son-of-a-bitch, only to find out he was just a fish in the sea. Sometimes I wish we hadn't stumbled onto JUNE… they're like a spider's web with a maze inside every length of string, and I just can't see where the end of it might take us."
"Are you having another mid-life crisis or something, Commander?" Carter asked dryly, picking at a fingernail.
"No, no, nothing like that," Britton chuckled, smoothing down his lapel with a wrinkled hand. "I'm just thinking back to the days when fighting international criminals was, believe it or not, a much simpler process. If a fiend like Bomerian had existed—I don't know—when I first became a commander, he would have been one of the almighty top dogs in the game; maybe in the top five worldwide. Now, though, he's just a cog in the machine."
"Back in your day, I don't know if they even had machines."
"Which brings me to the real reason for our conversation," Britton continued, and the subtle shift in his voice brought a definite change to the air of the office.
"Commander?" asked Carter, genuinely curious.
"I wonder whether your judgement was correct in arresting Ketchum and his companions," said the commander, his dull eyes now sharp as spears and aimed squarely at his subordinate's. "The boy clearly has no connections to JUNE; hell, from what I've been reading since you made the arrest—" he tapped a thick finger against the papers on the desk, "he's a regular Sonny Save-The-Day."
Carter chewed his tongue for a moment or two. He was a man who always trusted his instincts, and having them questioned was one of the few things that routinely got his claws out, even if such a question was coming from the man in charge. He chose his words carefully before responding.
"At the time, I thought it was the best call to be made," he said firmly. "An arrest needed to be made, even if the true criminal wasn't at the scene; the civilian population will feel safer knowing that, at the very least, some action is being taken. Neither Ketchum nor the others were mentioned in any reports, as well; that protects us from accusations of poor judgement as well."
"Then why hasn't Ketchum been released?" Britton inquired. "He's clearly innocent."
Again, Carter hesitated. "He's still in custody because—" he clenched his teeth together, and chose to finish his sentence through them, "Grimm is questioning them, over matters pertaining to another investigation, the details of which he's refused to share with me."
"I see…"
"Commander, if I may," said Carter, leaning forwards, "I believe it would benefit both my investigation and Grimm's if he simply collaborated."
"That is not your call to make, and you would be foolish to even imply the suggestion of such a thing to me again," growled Britton. Carter recognised the nerve pulsing in his temple for what it was and pursed his lips, reluctantly letting the issue drop.
"As it is, Grimm's affairs are above even my level, so I wouldn't have a say in the matter, either," Britton added.
"I'm not even sure why he's part of the organisation," grunted the captain. "He operates outside the command structure, answers only to the Director and his Committee, completely disregards the standard procedures, and on top of all that, he's—"
"A dick, I know. However, Grimm's position is precisely the reason that he's been dispatched by the Director to assist in this case. We simply have to trust him on this, Russell."
Carter folded his arms and tossed his head back in irritation. No matter what the circumstances might be, or how much he was told to by the Commander, he didn't trust Grimm in the slightest.
Ash was angry.
Over and over again, he paced in circles around the dingy room in which he was being held, hands folded stubbornly across his chest. His black hair was even more unruly than usual; his trademark hat was lying, discarded, on the cold metal desk in the middle of the room, and he had spent the better part of the last hour impatiently running his hands through the dark spikes, waiting for somebody to walk in through the white door at the room's side.
"Pii, pii…" squeaked Pikachu, ears drooping over the side of his face as he lay on one of the two chairs tucked into the desk.
A loud rattling sound made Ash jump up in fright, his gaze instantly turning towards the door, but there was no turning of the doorknob, and nobody walked inside. He felt himself getting angrier by the second; he was fed up with having to wait so long that he was starting to imagine noises in his head. But then the rattling happened again, and this time Ash looked towards the large pane of glass mounted on the wall opposite him, seeing it bounce about in its bracket.
"Is someone back there?" Ash called out, only seeing himself reflected in the glass. "Who is it?"
"Sit down," said a male voice, magnified in the cramped space as it came through speakers mounted in the four corners of the ceiling. Ash whirled around, looking at each of them in turn. "Sit down," repeated the voice, a little more sternly this time.
Ash took the hint, and scooped Pikachu onto the desk before taking his seat. "Who are you?" he asked bluntly, looking back at the mirror.
"You can call me Grimm," answered the voice monotonously. "Are you Ash Ketchum, from Pallet Town in the Kanto region?"
"Yeah…?" replied Ash. He wondered where Grimm was going with this.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" said Grimm, almost nonchalantly.
"Yes, my name is Ash Ketchum, and I'm from Pallet Town!" Ash shouted in anger, impatience still bubbling away inside him. "What do you want with me?"
The voice called Grimm was silent, apparently giving the question quite a bit of thought. Eventually, he spoke up again. "I want your help," he said.
The answer took Ash by surprise. "My help?" he repeated blankly, barely able to believe his ears. "My help? If you wanted my help, why didn't you just ask me? I don't know many people who ask for help by kidnapping the guy when he's trying to save his friends from some psycho!"
"Pi-ka!" growled Pikachu in fierce agreement, yellow sparks dancing over his cheeks.
"You misunderstand me," said Grimm. "You weren't arrested because I thought you were guilty of a crime. The alleged kidnapping of your young lady-friend was a lie I told to Carter, the man who arrested you, so that you would be brought here for—"
"Where is here, exactly?" Ash interjected, gesturing around the room.
"It's not your turn to ask a question, Ash," Grimm replied coolly, and a nerve twitched in Ash's jaw.
"This isn't a game!" he snarled, thumping a fist on the table. "I want to know what's happening! Where are Brock and Misty? Where's Anabel? Are they safe?"
"Your friends are recovering in hospital," Grimm relented, growing tired with the boy's persistence. "Perhaps this isn't the best way to go about things," he ventured. "One moment, please."
There was a light rustling sound through the speakers before everything returned to unpleasant silence, and Ash tilted his head forwards, expecting something to happen suddenly. His anticipation made him jump out of his chair, then, when he heard the doorknob being turned, and the door swinging open with a soft creak.
As the figure entered the room, Ash did a double-take; whoever this person was, they certainly weren't Grimm. The new arrival looked like a teenager about his age, slender and feminine with large blue eyes and brown hair tied in a long ponytail that reached down to the waist. The teen raised an arm to scratch at an ear and stepped further into the room, the door automatically swinging shut behind black-heeled boots.
Wordlessly, Ash's new interrogator took the seat opposite him, procuring a manila folder and tossing it lightly onto the desk. Pikachu eyed the folder with apprehension, poking his head towards it, but the teen ignored him, looking up towards Ash instead. Ash returned the gaze for a few moments, before realising that the person was waiting for him to sit down again, so he quickly did so.
"Who are you?" he asked, a little rudely.
"Who do you think I am?" replied the teen, and Ash was taken completely aback as he recognised the masculine voice.
"Grimm?" he gasped, as Pikachu gave a similar reaction.
"Not what you expected, am I right?" Grimm chuckled, folding his arms over the black long-sleeved shirt he wore. "It's probably why I like to open with the faceless approach. People tend to create their own faces to match the voice behind the one-way mirror."
"Um, okay?"
"Well, now that we've actually met face-to-face, allow me to formally introduce myself," he continued, extending a hand. "Grimm de Winter, liaison with conduct."
"Er, 'liaison with conduct'?" Ash repeated, shaking Grimm's hand.
"Common Order of Nations and Democracies United in Combating Terrorism," said the latter. "C-O-N-D-U-C-T."
"Oh, so like the Pokémon G-Men?" asked Ash excitedly, but he frowned when Grimm threw his head back in laughter.
"The G-Men?" he chuckled, wiping a tear out of his eye. "Oh, man, that's a good one. The Pokémon G-Men—" he stifled another laugh, "—the G-Men, despite all the hype you might want to believe, are nothing more than Pokémon rights activists. They're a joke compared to these guys. No, no. CONDUCT—they're the big boys."
"And you're not necessarily a part of that, are you?" Ash inquired, having picked up on the tone in Grimm's words.
"No. Like I said, I'm a liaison," Grimm repeated. "CONDUCT brings me in when they feel that I can offer some unique insight into a particular investigation. You might call me a crime-fighting genius."
"So what would someone like you need my help with?"
Grimm looked surprised by the question, and his mouth hung half-open for a moment before looking down at the folder on the desk. "Oh, right," he muttered, opening the folder and spreading its contents in front of Ash. "I'm sure you're familiar with these colourful individuals."
"Huh?" grunted Ash, grabbing the nearest file. It was a high-resolution colour photograph, showing a snow-covered courtyard, surrounded by modern buildings and swarming with men and women dressed in expensive business clothes. "Who am I look—" he stopped short and took a sharp gasp as he saw two of the figures in the photograph, standing out amongst the others with their brightly-coloured hair and unmistakeable outfits.
"Judging by that reaction, you recognise them," noted Grimm, with a slight twinkle in his eyes.
"Of course I do!" said Ash loudly, showing the picture to Pikachu, who instantly bristled and bared his tiny, sharp teeth. "That's Mars and Saturn. They're part of Team Galactic. But I saw them being taken away to jail after what happened on Mt. Coronet in Sinnoh… why are you showing me this picture?"
"I needed confirmation," was Grimm's reply. "Now that I have it, I have an important question: where is their leader, the man called Cyrus?"
"Cyrus?" Ash echoed. He exchanged a quick glance of worry with Pikachu, and turned to the picture that Grimm was now tapping with an outstretched finger. "He—vanished during the battle at Spear Pillar."
"He vanished, huh," Grimm muttered, raising an eyebrow. "Just disappeared into thin air?"
"It's… not as crazy as you might think," Ash mused aloud, thinking back to the events of that day. "Why are you asking me, though? Has he shown up somewhere?"
"Not yet," said Grimm, shuffling through the photographs and pulling three from amongst the pile. He tossed them in Ash's direction, and Ash saw a close-up picture of each Galactic Commander in them. "But they have."
"What?" Ash yelped, shooting up in his chair as though he'd just been burned. "They broke out of jail?"
"Essentially," Grimm replied, his eyes darkening. "Last night, at 3:25 a.m. local time, the individuals you know as Mars, Jupiter and Saturn were all broken out of a top-secret prison—" he showed Ash another photograph, this time showing a hellish fortress in the middle of an icy plain, "in the Arctic circle. It's a nice little slice of hell where CONDUCT keeps men and women who are—well—too dangerous to be kept anywhere inhabitable."
"No way…" whispered Ash, still looking at the imposing prison.
"CONDUCT has evidence to suggest—which I was able to confirm—" Grimm tucked all the photos back into the folder and closed it, "that whoever was responsible for this jailbreak is also, for whatever reason, behind the unfortunate kidnapping of your young friend, Misty."
"What?" Ash exclaimed, his hands curling into fists. Grimm gave him a sombre nod, and they grew tighter, his knuckles turning pearly white. "Who are they?"
"Not in your wildest dreams, bucko," chuckled Grimm. He leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on the edge of the table. "The only reason I'm even telling you this is because of my own curiosity. You must have some serious balls to be trying to weasel that kind of information out of me."
"I didn't—"
"Now, I've read the dossiers on Team Galactic, so I know all about their little operation and how you and your buddies teamed up with the Sinnoh Champion to stop them," Grimm continued. "I've been in talks with the International Police since sunrise developing profiles on the Commanders. But with this latest development, I've come to think that the missing link in all this, that unknown quantity that binds all the threads together… may be you."
"Me? W-what could I have to do with any of this?" Ash asked, stupefied.
"It's not a difficult thing to imagine, Ash," said Grimm, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The people who kidnap your friend just happen to be the same people who broke three maximum-security prisoners out of jail last night – prisoners which have, let's face it, more than enough reason to hold a grudge against you?"
"I suppose you're right…" conceded Ash. "But I don't really have any enemies! Well, none that I can think of off the top of my head, anyway."
Grimm cradled his chin in his hands, head tilted slightly to the side, and he held this odd pose for a long time. "Hm," he grunted at last, dropping his legs and scooping up the manila folder, which he then tucked under his arm. "Right. Well, on behalf of the investigation, I'd like to thank you for your input and co-operation. You've been helpful, to say the least," he said formally.
"What? That's it?"
"That's it," said Grimm, with a tone of voice that left no room for more questions.
Ash breathed a sigh of relief, reading between the lines and realising that Grimm was done with his questioning. "I'm not too sure how I've said anything helpful, to be honest," he admitted with a shrug. "But I'm glad it's all over!" he added with a laugh, to which Grimm flashed a smile.
"Don't worry, you did fine," he reassured Ash, slapping him across the back. "Hopefully, we'll be able to track down the people behind this mess and everything will sort itself out. In the meantime, though, I think it would be best if you kept our little chat to yourself."
"Huh? Why?" Ash asked, as he donned his cap.
"It's standard cop stuff. The investigation is still ongoing, so we don't you running your mouth off and inadvertently letting the bad guys know we're on their trail," Grimm explained. "If you think you'll have a hard time keeping quiet, we could always lock you away until we're finished," he joked, but Ash grimaced at the thought.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about me!" he said quickly, waving his hands in front of his chest.
"Good to know!" Grimm grinned, opening the door. "Well, you're free to go," he said, nodding towards the hallway. "Follow the signs out."
"Er, right. Thanks!" he grunted, before turning to Pikachu. "Come on, Pikachu! Let's go to the hospital and see Brock and Misty on the way to Leoric's tag team match!"
With that, Pikachu hopped onto Ash's shoulder, the pair of them both glad beyond words to be able to leave, and they wasted no time in dashing into the hallway and out of sight. Once they had left, Grimm blew a deep breath and let go of the door, allowing it to swing shut with a gentle hiss.
"And so the plot thickens…" he muttered, taking the folder from under his arm and staring at it. He frowned, as though it was mocking him. "What does JUNE want with you, Ash Ketchum…?"
Leoric checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. He narrowed his eyes at the slender, golden minute hand, still in the same place it had been the last twenty or so times, and dropped his arm in frustration. Time had slowed to a crawl for everything except his nerves, apparently. He looked around the cramped, dark tunnel. A small colour television was mounted high on the wall opposite the bench on which he sat, but other than that, the stretch of stone and earth was featureless. An empty tunnel didn't sit well for Leoric.
'Where the hell is he?' he thought angrily. He tapped his feet against the well-trodden ground before throwing himself up off the bench, and paced about with his arms hunched against his sides. 'C'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon—'
He was broken out of his impatient mantra by the faint sounds of shoes thumping over dirt, growing louder and louder by the moment. At once, Leoric's thoughts turned to disqualification; he could just imagine the referee bounding down the tunnel with an official-looking stare and a solemn word. His despair was short-lived, though, when the source of the racing footsteps came into view out of the darkness.
"Sorry I'm late," said the teenage boy, one hand unsteadily keeping the felt hat on his head jammed over his brown hair. "I had a brainwave and needed to swap out two of my Pokémon," he explained, a little out-of-breath as he came to a stop in front of Leoric and tapped a finger over the top of the Poké Balls attached to his waist.
"You sure you couldn't cut it any closer, huh?" Leoric hissed, shoving his wrist in the boy's face. "Another minute and we'd've been toast, Ari!"
"Hey, I said I'm sorry, alright!" shouted Ari, raising his hands as though in surrender.
The two Trainers took a moment to compose themselves, inhaling and exhaling in unison, before Leoric turned towards the large steel doors that marked the end of the tunnel. "So, what's that famous gut of yours telling you?" he asked, waving towards the exit.
"Hmm…" Ari lifted a hand to his chin. "I don't know much about them, so it's gonna be a rough opening. I think we should run with one of our weather combinations, just to play it safe."
"Aw, man…!" pouted Leoric, hanging his head. "I wanted to do something risky!"
A loud grating noise from the exit got their attention, and a narrow crack of light appeared between the steel doors. Slowly, they opened wide, and Ari and Leoric shielded their eyes as the light flooded the tunnel, which now gave way to the gargantuan stadium before them.
"Shall we?" chuckled Ari. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he strolled onto the stadium floor, with Leoric following hot on his heels and waving jubilantly at the crowd as they sent wave after wave of cheers at their favoured Trainers.
The canopy of stars in the sky sat invisible above them, all but blocked out by the high-powered floodlights erected at the stadium's four corners. It was well into the night, but nobody present was in any mood for sleep. Stadium F was one of the eight battlegrounds reserved for special battles, and the spectators knew that they were in for a real treat. Rows upon rows of people were jumping up and down in their seats, knowing that the battle was mere minutes away, and the poor vendors were being continuously overwhelmed by orders for salted food and drink from all directions.
Down at the arena, Ari gave the stands a quick glance, scanning the thousands of faces. As the duo came closer to the illuminated centre circle, he slumped his shoulders and frowned, seemingly disappointed.
Leoric quickly picked up on it, and turned towards his friend. "What's up?" he asked quizzically.
"Ah—it's nothing, don't worry," said Ari hastily, shaking his head.
"Good to know," Leoric grunted, looking forwards again just in time to see the pair of Trainers stepping out to greet them on the field.
"Welcome, one and all!" boomed the commentator's deep voice, ringing throughout the stadium even as the cheering fans grew louder. "I'm glad you ladies and gents have taken the time to brave the chill tonight—brrr!—and make your way to Stadium F tonight, because I can guarantee that this battle is gonna be white-hot! It might only be the first round of the Tag Team Trophy, but we've already seen some gladiatorial feats so far today!"
"Yeah, and you ain't seen nothing yet," Leoric muttered under his breath, a cocky smirk already showing.
"But who cares about that? We're here for the right here and now, am I right?" the commentator asked the crowd, who answered with a chaotic cacophony of cheers. "And right here, right now, we've got a match sure to rouse the fire in your bellies! On the one side, we have a dynamic duo born and raised on our very shores! A seamless combination of brains and brawn, these two are highly favoured by the experts at our fantastic sponsors, PokéTip—remember to bet responsibly!—so please, give your best welcome for Leoric Reiger of Hoenn, and Ari DeVarro of Johto!"
Ari and Leoric were bombarded on all sides by wild fans cat calling, a raucous chant of their names booming down from the highest tiers of the stands. Grinning stupidly at each other, the pair returned the adoration with humble waves, although Leoric was more enthusiastic than his partner, blowing kisses to random girls in the nearest rows. As the vocal maelstrom began to settle, Ari became aware of his opponents' arrival in the centre of the battlefield, and so he nudged Leoric in the shoulder, directing his attention.
"I'm sure some of you are wondering; Gunther, just who are their opponents?" continued the commentator, his head jerking about on his thick neck with every excited word. "I'll be glad to tell you! This powerful partnership comes to us from all the way in Europe; she's a Dutch champion who's been all around the world, and he's an Italian maestro with strategies that would make your head spin! Give it up for Antoine Bergen and Lorenzo Giovanni!"
"Antoine, huh?" Leoric snickered, passing an eye over the small Trainer. "So you'd be the one that lost to Ash in the first round of the singles tournament."
Antoine's cheeks flushed deep crimson at her opponent's words, and she opened her mouth to unleash a furious tirade against him, but Lorenzo clapped a hand over her mouth to shut her up. The crowd erupted with laughter at the exchange, which only made Antoine's face redden even more, and Ari took the opportunity to give the man a looking over. Alongside his partner, Lorenzo seemed gigantic, with sleek, dark hair and a brooding expression that gave him the appearance of a bird of prey.
"I would be calling that a fluke," said Lorenzo, looking down his prominent nose at the two teenagers. "Antoine has more strength in the tag team, anyway."
"We're pretty good ourselves, y'know," Leoric boasted, thumping a fist against his chest.
Lorenzo chuckled softly, releasing his grip on Antoine's face. "We will see," he replied, extending a hand.
"We will indeed," Ari said with a smile, shaking Lorenzo's hand.
The four Trainers quickly performed the formal handshake with each opponent, Antoine a little begrudgingly, before turning their backs and heading for their Trainer's boxes. Shoulder-to-shoulder, Ari and Leoric stood rooted inside their small patch of green, while Antoine and Lorenzo took up the red box. The umpire strode out onto the battlefield, adjusting the wireless microphone attached to his collar as he stopped in the middle of the sideline. The crowd instantly went quiet; they were all waiting for him to announce the beginning of the battle.
"This will be a two-on-two tag team battle!" he declared, raising an arm towards each pair. "Each Trainer will send out one Pokémon, and one Pokémon only, to be used in conjunction with their partner for a single round of elimination. Once a Pokémon is declared unable to battle, it must be immediately recalled, and its Trainer can no longer actively participate in the battle. The team which has one or more Pokémon still standing at the end of the battle will be declared the victors, and move on to the second round! Battle will conform to the rules set out by the International Pokémon Battling Federation. A breach of these rules will result in instant disqualification for both Trainers in that particular team. Do both teams understand?"
"Yeah!" chorused Antoine and Lorenzo, eyes glinting.
"Hell yeah!" shouted Leoric, punching the air.
The referee nodded curtly as he raised both flags into the air, casting long shadows up the boundary wall behind his back. "Then let the battle begin!"
Look who's back, with a well-overdue chapter to boot!
Obviously, there aren't excuses or apologies that can make up for being almost four months tardy. Numerous happenings, pressures, university things, etc. etc., but even at 100 words a day this would have come out earlier. Truth be told, it would've come out last Tuesday, but I didn't want to play second fiddle to Diablo III's well-anticipated release.
Thanks to everybody who's reading this chapter after waiting so long and so patiently (or impatiently). Also, thanks to the people who reviewed previous chapters, and thanks in advance to people about to review. Major kudos to "olihmajor", "Kauris" and "Table Rounders" for their reviewing sprees since the last update!
OCs are still welcome, whether in review form or PM form... or any other form you can send them in that I haven't thought of yet. All OCs will, at the very least, get a mention by name at some point in the story, with proper recognition to the author who submitted said character. Naturally, not all can have major roles, but this way there's at least something, right?
Question-answering time! In response to "Nauran", I'm driven to continue this story by my love of the franchise, and the desire to make the best story I can. Obviously, that's the politically correct answer, but I also want to show everybody how incredible Pokémon battles can be if you write them well (arrogant on my part, maybe?), and it's good experience for me to have if/when I pursue a career in the entertainment industry.
For "Table Rounders", I can't say when Paul will show up in the story, or what his role will be. All I can say is that Paul will show up, haha. Keep those questions coming, and I'll be glad to answer them if I can!
Chapter 19, "My Sandrock Sonnet", will feature Leoric and Ari's tag team battle, and is currently being written. Depending on how kind my university schedule is, it will be released on May 29th, or pushed back to June 5th. Rest assured, though, that it will definitely be published on one of those days; there won't be another unnecessary hiatus. Remember to check my profile each Tuesday, just in case!
So, until next time... Be sure to review and, after so long,
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!